Sleeper Awaken
by kshaitan
Summary: Releasing the wildcat
1. Chapter 1 Panic & Fear

***these are not my characters but they are fun to play with*** This is my first attempt at a chapter story. Hope you enjoy it.

"Marshall, I need you back at the hospital," Stan barked before Marshall could even greet him. Marshall tried to focus on the fact that Stan sounded angry and not upset but his chest seized in pain. What if she had died and he hadn't been there?

"On my way," Marshall said, clicking the phone closed. He didn't want to hear about whatever it was over the phone. Once he was there and could see that Mary was still breathing then he'd deal with whatever it was. Trying not to break every traffic law in the city, he managed to get to the hospital within ten minutes. Three minutes later had him outside Mary's room pushing past the gaggle of people there, not caring whom he moved to get into her room.

His heart began to beat normally and he let out a sigh when he saw that she was breathing, she was awake again and aware. It had taken a direct order from Stan to get him to leave and now that he was back that wouldn't be happening again. Then he took a good look at Mary's face; she looked lost, frightened and she was crying. "Marshall?" she asked in a small voice that broke his heart all over again.

"I'm here," he said, not realizing he'd taken the two steps from the door to her bed and reached out a hand to her. That was apparently not enough because her eyes were filling with more tears and her lips were trembling. Gingerly resting on the side of her bed, he gathered her carefully into his arms, shocked when he felt her try and borough into him, her hands clinging to his shirt. What had happened? Who had gotten her this upset? Was it his fault for leaving?

"It's all wrong," she sobbed into his shoulder.

"What is Mare?" he asked.

"They got so mad and it was loud and you weren't here," she whispered, not lifting her head up. "You promised never to leave."

"I'm sorry," he said, pressing a kiss onto her head. "I was forcibly removed. I won't leave again. Not until you kick my skinny ass to the curb."

"Can't do that," she sniffled. "I need you too much. Is that wrong?"

"No Mare, it isn't. I need you too," he assured her. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"I can't remember the man they all keep insisting is my fiancé," she said, finally raising her head. "I remember the shooting, I remember Peter, I remember Eleanor. I don't remember him."

"Anything else you're fuzzy on?"

"No," she assured him. "I remember you… the crazy pajama pants, the never ending trivia that spills out of your mouth. The fact that I shot you in your skinny ass the first day I met you. I remember when you were shot and talked me through triage. I remember your toast. I don't remember him."

"Take me through what happened?"

"I'm not a witness Doofus," she complained but rested her head on his shoulder again.

"There's a reason the techniques work Mare," he assured her. "And nothing you say goes further than you and me."

"The nurse asked me if I was ready to see my fiancé and I thought it was weird because you had just left. I couldn't figure out why you would leave only to come right back in," she admitted, not wanting to look up and see his face at that part of her confession. The pain meds and coma were making her tongue a little loose and she couldn't keep it from him. "I mean, I knew you were my partner professionally but she said fiancé and you were the only person that came to my mind."

Marshall was floored. He knew that blood loss and trauma could wreak havoc with memories but this seemed to be the only one that was missing. And to top it off, she had expected him and not Raphael to walk through the door as her fiancé. He couldn't stop the happiness he felt at that.

"But then he walked in and he was talking to me like people talk to a scared child. And he touched me, tried to kiss me and I think I screamed, calling for you. He started yelling, cursing at me. Said it was typical that I would want you instead of my fiancé," she shuddered. "I can't even remember his name. I've been told about a dozen times and I still can't remember it. Then Mom came in and started in, telling me that I was always so hurtful to him. Brandi tried to jog my memory and was sweet but I just… I needed you."

"How long ago was this?" he asked when she yawned.

"Two hours," she confessed. "Even with the drugs, I can't sleep. He might come back and… God, Marshall, I'm scared."

"I'm here," he said, pulling her a little bit closer. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You make everything seem right," she whispered, her body going lax. "Gonna sleep now."

She wasn't kidding. One minute she was conscious, the next down for the count. He eased her down and brushed a lingering tear off her cheek. He knew that there were people outside the door that needed answers but what they needed was nowhere near as important as what she needed. And she needed him.


	2. Chapter 2 What's in a nickname

**I hope that you're enjoying this. No review as of yet. I'm going slightly out of canon here as to Mary and Raphael's relationship. I didn't like how the conversation with Francesca played after they saw Raphael's commercial.**

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Mary woke up suddenly but kept her eyes closed as her instincts were screaming that danger was close. A familiar hand was holding hers and the even cadence of Marshall's breathing sounded from the chair next to hers. Across countless stakeouts and witness transfers, the sound of Marshall's easy breathing was supremely comforting. She wondered what it was that had woken her if Marshall was still sleeping.

Opening her eyes, she studied him. Here was safety, friendship, affection, respect, admiration, passion, happiness and love. She wasn't stupid and she knew what the after affects of a coma could be. Her uncontrolled words were proof enough of that. Before she'd been shot she would never have burdened Marshall with even a hint of how she felt for him. She was nowhere near good enough for him.

However, the man everyone insisted was her fiancé was still missing from her memories. Why would she have even tried to fake it with someone so incredibly different from Marshall? He was handsome but he was too… too… there were too many muscles and not enough height. Nothing about him sparked anything in her. He looked at her with puppy dog eyes that offered her no challenge, nothing that would mark him as her equal. He just… he wasn't Marshall. Hell, Brandi's Peter would have been a more likely candidate as a substitute Marshall. Except he was really short.

Nothing seemed to be happening and she began to wonder if her instincts were off somehow. Could it just have been the drugs wearing off? Just as she was about to give in and try and relax she felt Marshall's grip tighten on her own. His breathing lost its deep cadence. He was awake and felt it too.

She saw his eyes open and they met hers before flicking to the door, not moving any other part of his body. Unwillingly, she turned hers in that direction as well, watching as someone slowly, painstakingly turned the handle. The person who entered was not dressed in any sort of uniform and reeked of liquor. How were they managing to be this quiet if they were drunk?

Hell, her senses seemed to be in overdrive. She knew if she was able to ask Marshall he'd be able to give her the precise biological reason for it in perfect detail with huge words. She felt the insane urge to chuckle at that thought. An unknown threat about to enter the room and the thought that crosses her mind is a rambling discourse from her partner.

It became apparent that someone was helping her drunken visitor when he turned around carelessly to 'shhhhh' someone behind him. He further revealed himself when he said, "I will crawl into bed with her and she will remember everything." The idiot must have thought he was whispering. Moron. He also must think Marshall had left when visiting hours were over. But who was his accomplice?

"Raphael, don't do this." That sealed it. Jinx was such a brainless bitch! She was letting her supposed fiancé in here in the middle of the night? "The only reason I brought you here was because you claimed you had alcohol poisoning. You go in that room and I will scream for security." Mary decided to upgrade Jinx from brainless to gullible.

"Mary has to remember me. I am the man she loves, the man she belongs to. When I am in her bed, she will know this," the moron explained. Damnit, she just heard her mother say his name. Why couldn't she remember it?

Marshall's eyes flicked back to Mary and she met them after a moment, giving him a nod. His hand left hers and she tried, but couldn't help feel a little abandoned. Hell, she'd just given him permission to go why did she feel like he'd voluntarily disappeared from her life? This was one side affect of the coma that had better end soon or she'd go insane.

Forcing herself to focus she watched Marshall calmly walk up to the open door, waiting for the moron to notice him. He hadn't tried to be sneaky and Mary again had the urge to giggle. The moron, all full of machismo and muscles, could never be a match for Marshall. Even if she did never remembered anything about him except what happened from today forward, she knew this to be absolute fact.

"What part of your mind actually believes sexually assaulting Mary is going to make her remember you?" Marshall asked the moron and Mary snorted. She couldn't help it. The light from the hallway illuminated the moron's face and he looked so comical in his confusion and fear.

"You aren't supposed to be here," the moron babbled, his voice breaking. "Visiting hours ended a long time ago. Only family."

"They make exceptions for law enforcement dip-shit," Mary said from the bed, using the control buttons to rise into a sitting position. She'd learned earlier in the day that she couldn't do it by herself yet. As much as that pissed her off, she'd seen Marshall wince right along with her. Her pain was causing him pain and she'd conceded so he wouldn't be upset.

"I am her fiancé!" the moron yelled at Marshall and Mary noted that Marshall's stance had widened, his hand coming to rest on his gun. This moron could hurt Marshall and it would be her fault! If she pressed the nurse call they wouldn't send anyone who could back him up. She needed a phone. She needed to call Stan or Bobby D. She needed her gun!

"I'm her partner," Marshall said, physically putting himself between the moron and her. "And I'm giving you ten seconds to leave or I will arrest you for attempted rape."

"You can't rape your fiancé," the moron declared, his voice getting belligerent.

"The law says different dip-shit," Mary threw back at him, wishing she could get up and throw off this damned weakness. "And I don't remember you. Raping me isn't exactly going to cause that to miraculously happen."

"Querida," the moron whined at her and that's when the memories came. Raphael and his physical therapist, Raphael constantly flirting with Brandi, Raphael and the girls in his local 'fan' club. Always surrounded by women who threw themselves at him. Raphael and a bottle blond naked in her pool the afternoon before she went to stay with Francesca. If she hadn't swung by to pick up some clothes she would never have known. But she'd forgotten to refresh her go bag and the thought of wearing dirty underwear had been seriously disturbing.

He'd called the blond in the pool querida as he screwed her.

"Do you call every women you fuck by that endearment Raph?" Mary asked, and even she could hear the ice in her voice. "Or just those that you fuck in my pool?"

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**Please let me know what you think. Thanks. ~K**


	3. Chapter 3 Bedside manner

**Thank you everyone who reviewed this story, I'm having a lot of fun writing it.**

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"So all it took was him saying a single word and it all came back?" Mary's doctor asked for the fifth time. Marshall could hear the skepticism and could see Mary's growing frustration at the repetition. After Mary's memory had returned, Jinx had burst into the room, delighted that her daughter was better and kissing Mary's head several times while clutching her hand. If that hadn't left Mary shell-shocked, the fact that Jinx went up to Raphael and slapped him was enough to stun the entire room.

Marshall had put himself immediately between the drunk Dominican and the women not liking the rage he saw sparking. Jinx had been impressive and, not that he would tell his partner, he finally saw some of Mary's fierceness in her mother. Raphael's anger had turned toward Marshall and he'd begun yelling in Spanish at the top of his lungs, fully alerting the hospital staff to his presence. He'd taken a swing and missed, Marshall only having to lean back to avoid the poorly aimed punch. He used the man's stumbling momentum to twist his arms behind his back and pin him to the wall while they waited for security.

Raphael Ramirez was now enjoying the hospitality of the ABQ jail and Marshall couldn't think of a better place for him. What kind of an idiot cheated on a woman like Mary not once, but twice? And those were the one's Mary knew about. Women like Mary were rare and should be treated with nothing but the deepest respect. You might lose a limb otherwise.

Mary had rapidly fallen asleep again after the adrenaline quit her system and Marshall resumed his dozing vigil in the chair next to her, their fingers intertwined. Too few hours later, the doctor decided to put Mary through very repetitive inquisition. One that Mary had just declared over with the mulish expression on her face.

"For the last time, yes. He used that damned endearment, which he only uses when he's horny, and the memories were just there. Should I describe how not fun it is to go from disoriented to seriously pissed off in less than two seconds? How about how the most prominent thing I remembered was watching a man who swears that he loves me screwing someone else in the pool that I paid for?" Mary snapped at the doctor. Marshall could see the rage coming off her in waves and knew that the anger wasn't good for her. Part of him was tickled that she was more upset about the fact that it had happened on her property than that it had happened. Hey, he wasn't a saint and the less actual heartbreak she was suffering over Raphael was the happier he could be about the demise of the engagement. He was still riding the slight high from her saying he was the only person she could think of when she was told she had a fiancé. He'd give her a few weeks before he pushed, but he would definitely push.

"And you remember everything about him now?" the doctor moved on and Marshall finally gave in to his own annoyance. Anything to end this for Mary.

"You don't question people a lot, do you?" he asked as he took a step forward to remind the doctor of his presence.

"I ask people questions all day," the doctor snorted.

"But do you actually listen to their responses? Do you study their faces, their body language? Do you do anything but look at the piece of paper in front of you as you make your patients feel like a statistic?" Marshall growled. "If you looked at Mary once, or hell, the machines monitoring her, you would notice that you have managed to elevate her blood pressure by your repetition. Even I know that isn't a good thing."

"I'm… I'm sorry officer but the singular nature of Miss…" the doctor began.

"Marshal," Marshall corrected. "I'm not officer Mann. I'm Marshal Mann and she is Marshal Shannon."

"Of course Marshal," the doctor said and Marshall took satisfaction in watching the color drain from the man's face. "I was trying to explain that the singular nature of Marshal Shannon's amnesia is highly improbable."

"I disagree," Marshall said, casting a glance at Mary and taking note that her blood pressure was going down as he took the doctor to task. Maybe he could convince her to be hooked up to one of those all the time. It would be a nifty way to tell when she was about to blow her top. It would get in the way of pursuits though. "I think that Marshal Shannon had an emotional trauma that she was unable to deal with before being subjected to severe physical trauma. I believe that her subconscious suppressed the emotional trauma to allow her to recover from the physical."

"But Miss… I mean Marshal Shannon had no difficulty recalling the precise circumstances of the physical trauma," the doctor reminded Marshall. As if Marshall needed to be reminded that his partner had been shot. That he hadn't been there to back her up. That he had failed to protect her.

"Marshal Shannon," Mary growled from the bed. "Is a highly trained law enforcement officer who is used to having to recall minute details that occur during volatile situations. Nitwit."

The doctor stuttered a few platitudes, checked Mary's vitals and got out of the room as fast as he could. Mary noticed her partner's serious expression and decided he needed a laugh. If he got too far into his head, he'd find a way to make the entire situation his fault and get mired in his guilt. "Did you notice that brilliant yellow streak?" she asked, leaning back into the pillows as she began to feel sleepy.

"Should I get the doctor back?" Marshall asked, immediately concerned that her vision had been affected somehow.

"Why? Did you want to examine that streak on his back up close?" Marshall chuckled as her joke clicked. "Seriously, you would think he wanted me to admit that I had faked not remembering winky-dick," she added with a yawn.

Marshall threw his head back and laughed. He wasn't going to be able to look at Raphael without hearing her say 'winky-dink' ever again. He knew what Mary's game was and was grateful. It may seem like he took care of Mary but she had her ways of ensuring he was taken care of too. He settled back into his chair as Mary's eyes fluttered closed again. Her hand edged toward the side of the bed and his was immediately there to hold it.

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**I look forward to your thoughts.**


	4. Chapter 4 Temporary Partners

Mary woke slower this time. She could hear soft voices in her room but couldn't make out what they were saying and she really didn't care. She knew the voices, knew she was safe, knew they would wake her if they needed her for anything. It was nice to hear Stan and Marshall talking; almost like she was catching a catnap at her desk instead of stuck in this stupid bed. That was until she heard Marshall say, "Don't fight me on this Stan."

"Don't fight you on what?" she asked, opening her eyes to stare at the men.

"It's not something you need to worry about," Stan said soothingly. He was handling her and Mary saw Marshall wince at the other man's tone.

"If it concerns Marshall, it concerns me," she said, pushing herself into a sitting position, noting that the painful twinges weren't quite as painful as last time. Still didn't feel good though. When was she going to stop trying to prove she didn't need help when it was obvious that she did? Was being a moron contagious? Marshall was immediately at her side, bringing up the bed to support her and offering her his arm to grab onto.

"That's what we're arguing about," Marshall informed her gently. "Stan insists I need a temporary partner and I don't want one. For someone as bitchy as you, they give you a lot of jumpy witnesses who don't take kindly to meeting new marshals. Hell, some of them barely tolerate me and I'm a nice guy."

"Not my fault they figure out quick that I don't take shit from them and I won't take shit from the people who want to hurt them," she grinned at him. Turning to Stan she added, "And if you think I'm going to let another marshal around my witnesses without a damned good reason then you've gone batshit crazy."

"Yeah, and the only people available are Bombard and King," Marshall said through his smile.

"Brandi would do a better job," Mary snorted. "Stan you can't honestly think someone like Michael Soldi isn't going to put in a call to the prosecutor on his case the minute he meets Bombard? And didn't King just fail her weapons proficiencies?"

It wasn't lost on Stan that they were of one opinion – again. It also wasn't lost on him that Mary had voluntarily taken Marshall's hand and hadn't let go yet. Marshall had called him immediately after Raphael had been restrained and Stan hadn't been surprised that the lanky marshal had stayed the night with his partner; they were both caretakers by nature albeit in different manners. This was going to prove to be a headache one of these days but as long as they continued to be his best team, he wasn't going to rock the proverbial boat. "If Marshall had let me finish, I would have told him I would be acting as his temporary partner."

"Oh," Mary said, finally reclining back into the bed. How could sitting up be so damned exhausting? "That would work."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Stan chuckled.

"Who's going to run the office?" Marshall asked.

"Eleanor," Stan and Mary answered together.

"Well now that that's settled," Stan said. "I expect you to be well rested and not functioning on caffeine Marshall. Mary's out of danger now and you don't need to spend every night here. I'll visit later in the week Mary."

Stan took off as Mary turned incredulous eyes on Marshall. "Every night?"

Marshall shrugged feeling exposed and embarrassed. What did she expect?

"That means you haven't slept in your own bed in how long?" she wanted to know as she pulled on his hand so he would sit down. Why the hell was he so tall?

"About two weeks," he confessed, following the silent order to sit next to her.

"Marshall, don't wear yourself out because of me," Mary said, squeezing his hand. What if he got careless because he wasn't sleeping? What if he got hurt? She would NOT be the cause of that.

"I've tried Mare," he said, staring at their clasped hands instead of her eyes. Her eyes would see too much and they weren't ready for that. "I laid there in the dark and I couldn't sleep. If I could see you then I knew you were okay. The beeping of the monitors was actually soothing compared to the silence of my house."

"You know I hate this sappy stuff," Mary grouched at him. "But you need to hear this. Anything happens to you and I would not survive it. I learned that last year. So if you get hurt because you're careless from being too tired I will drag your ass back from heaven or hell and beat you. I think you and I have seen the inside of this place more often than necessary."

"Couldn't agree with you more Mare," Marshall said, sparing her a slight smile. "But I'm at that point too. Nothing feels right without you with me."

"I warned you about the sappy stuff," Mary warned him.

"I'm done," he promised with a chuckle, adding a silent 'for now' in his mind. "But I am sleeping. I just sleep in that chair instead of at home."

"Those are not comfortable."

"Speaking from experience?" he demanded. She'd hadn't visited a lot when he was awake last year but the scent of her shampoo always seemed to linger in the mornings when woke for the day.

"I remember spending a few nights in them," Mary said with a blush. "Now, do you think you could smuggle in a cheeseburger?"


	5. Chapter 5 Where is home

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. I wasn't sure I could do this successfully.**

**It was pointed out to me in one review that a few of the characters are of not as short as I wrote them. It may be the man or it may be the character, but Marshall just seems so much taller than Raphael to me (I keep thinking of a yippy chihuahua when I think of Raph). As far as Peter vs. Mary's height - I could only remember scenes they were in together where he was seated. Whoops?**

**Hope you enjoy this next installment.**

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Mary was beginning to hate waking up to people in her room. People who weren't Marshall at any rate. He'd been good to his word and hadn't left except for work and to shower. He even crept in after visiting hours and slept every night with her. But then again, she knew he would never break his word. He was her partner, her friend, her…

"Are you sure about this?" Marshall was asking someone. He was standing protectively at the foot of her bed, legs braced and arms crossed.

"Absolutely," was the response but Mary didn't recognize the voice. "And we'd rather you not tell your partner. We just need you to notify us if you hear from him."

"I don't see that happening," Marshall responded and Mary could hear the contempt in his voice. Contempt, anger and resolve. What had Marshall this upset and what was she not supposed to know? "First, Marshal Shannon has been nothing but a devoted and dedicated member of the Marshal Service. To treat her as anything less is disrespectful. Second, considering it regards her father, she has every right to know. Third, to ask that her partner keep information pertinent to her safety and well being secret is ludicrous."

"Fourth, you're talking loudly enough to have awoken her," Mary added as she sat the bed up.

"I apologize for waking you Marshal Shannon," the stranger in the room said with a nod in her direction. Older guy, probably late forties, who looked worn and weary. And he was wearing the standard 'non-descript' clothing of a damned Fed.

"Well, now that you have, fill in the blanks," she commanded as Marshall moved out of her direct line of sight but maintained his vigilant posture.

"Your father surfaced a few days ago and we think he may try and contact you," was the stranger's explanation.

"And you thought that dropping that on my partner with instructions not to tell me was a good idea?" she demanded. Sometimes Mary wondered if there should be a mandatory IQ test to work at in law enforcement. She was also trying to ignore the fact that the manhunt for her father had apparently resumed. If she started processing it now, she might break down and she refused to that in front of a Fed.

"Me personally?" the stranger chuckled. "Nope. Unfortunately, sometimes we have to do crap work because some egghead at HQ thinks its smart."

"Yeah, we've run into those orders once or twice," Marshall snorted and Mary was grateful he'd given her a moment to regroup. Marshall always took such good care of her. Why had it taken her getting shot to notice? And now making sure she would have information he knew would matter to her.

"If he does surface…" the Fed began.

"My father knows the consequences of his actions," Mary sighed from the bed, just wanting him gone. She could feel the damned tears pricking her eyes. Stupid coma. Stupid feelings. Stupid father. Stupid Feds.

"Well, I left the details with your partner," the Fed said and Mary had a feeling Marshall was giving him one of his dangerous glares. Mary was always amused by that expression on his expressive face, except for the singular occasion it had been directed at her. "Again, sorry for waking you."

The Fed was gone and as Marshall turned to face her, the tears began to fall. No matter how many years had passed, no matter how much her father had hurt her, there was a place inside her that would always react like that pathetically hopeful little girl waiting for him to come home. There had never been home after that. There had been places they'd lived, even a car for a while. There had been men in and out of Jinx's life but they were not the type of men who were fathers. And for years all she really wanted was the safety and security of home.

Marshall had her wrapped up in his strong eyes before the first sob broke from her lips. At one time, Marshall was sure he hated Raphael Ramirez more than anyone else on the face of the planet. Right now though, he'd be hard pressed to choose between Raphael and James Shannon. Mary's sobs were tearing his heart apart because there was nothing he could do to help her. This wound went too deep, was too raw for him to soothe.

The crying eventually wore Mary out and she felt Marshall lay her down so she could sleep. "Don't go," she whispered, knowing he would understand the undertones of the request.

"I'll never leave you," Marshall said and she heard everything he meant.

"Hold me a little longer?" she asked and was mortified the request left her mouth without checking with her brain. But she'd never take it back.

A few seconds passed and she realized Marshall was toeing off his boots and setting his badge and gun down on the nightstand. Carefully and cautiously, he lay next to her and wrapped her back in his arms. Mary felt secure and loved. She felt home. What she had been looking for and afraid of for so long. Marshall was home.

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**I'm open to suggestions of where to go the next time Mary wakes up.  
**


	6. Chapter 6 Never Leave

Marshall was exhausted but knew there was no way he'd be able to sleep until he collapsed in the chair next to Mary's bed. He and Stan had just gotten back from driving a transferred witness to Denver and he'd been gone for three days. With Stan rolling his eyes, he'd called Mary as frequently as possible. He couldn't help it; he would doze off and wake up disoriented with her not next to him. He was going to be a wreck once she was discharged and he no longer had an excuse to sit next to her bed.

Trudging through the hallways, he was immune to the dim humming and beeping of various machines and the compassionate glances of the nurses who knew him. All he wanted was the surety of being by her side once more.

Opening her door, he was annoyed to realize there was already someone else standing watch over his Mary. And the man had very familiar eyes. It took Marshall's tired mind a moment or two to realize that James Shannon was standing in front of him. He was too tired to even feel the rage that normally accompanied thoughts of the man. Settling for a glare, he walked past the other man and bent to press a kiss to look down into Mary's sleeping face.

She looked tired. She'd begun to look better before he'd left three days earlier but he'd heard strain in her voice when they'd spoken. Could she have missed him as much as he'd missed her? Part of him hoped she hadn't because he didn't want her suffering for him. The other part was dancing at the idea that she needed him as much as he needed her. And he was too tired to figure out which was the better reaction. Leaning down, he brushed a soft kiss against her forehead and smiled as her face turned towards him.

"You must be her husband," James commented after they'd maintained their silence for five minutes. Well, James had maintained his silence. Marshall had dozed off sitting next to Mary.

"Partner," he corrected, not looking back. He wasn't sure if he was hoping Mary would wake or if she would stay asleep. "I'm her partner."

"I've been here three hours and you're the only person who's come in," James observed.

"Visiting hours ended five hours ago," Marshall shot back. "She gets irritated if Jinx or Brandi stay too long."

"Doesn't want them to see her suffer?"

"They wear her out," Marshall said, finally turning to face the other man. "Not that she'd ever admit it. "The path you set her on to take care of them has been hard, thankless and unending. She is their absolute lowest priority."

"Why doesn't she just walk away?" James asked.

"Because she's not like you. Mary doesn't walk away," Marshall said, returning his face to Mary's, running his finger along her jaw. If he looked at James he would be tempted to shoot the man. Repeatedly.

"It wasn't easy to leave," James admitted.

"You still left," Marshall growled back at him. "You still shattered the heart of a daughter who worshipped you. And that makes you ten times worse than her alcoholic mother and her brainless sister who got involved in the drug trade. You've earned yourself a special place in hell, James Shannon, for what you've done to her."

"I wrote her," James said, an attempt at an excuse.

"And only made things worse. Instead of letting her process your abandonment, to come to terms with her new reality, you kept yourself as a central figure. And always with the unspoken promise that you might come back. If she was good enough, if she did what you asked, then you might take her with you."

"I never said that. Never even hinted at it."

"You tell that to a suffering girl," Marshall snarled at him, clenching his fists. "You tell that to the child you turned into an adult overnight because you couldn't man up."

"You talk like a man who loves her," James observed.

"I love her," Marshall said on a sigh, turning back to Mary. "More than you're capable of."

"I would do anything for her," James argued.

"No," Marshall said, watching as Mary's eyes fluttered open and held his in their stunned gaze. "You would do anything for yourself. I would do anything for her. Kill for her, die for her, spend my life by her side. I would never leave."

Tears were forming in Mary's eyes and he felt her hand steal into his. "I love my daughter, whether you believe it or not."

"But not enough to stay," Mary said, feeling her insides shatter. "Not enough to take me with you."

"I couldn't…"

"Bullshit," Mary sobbed even as she drew strength from Marshall. "You're in WitSec. I've known that since you sent Lauren to plant your little bug. And I know how WitSec works Dad. I handle assholes like you all day, every day."

"Mary, they didn't give me the option," he said and Mary knew the lie for what it was.

But she was beyond caring. She only wanted one answer, "Why wasn't I enough?"

"Sweetheart," James whispered but said nothing else.

Silence once again dominated the room. Marshall marveled at how quiet Mary's sorrow was. Each tear that fell was a knife drawing across his skin. He'd give anything to bear this pain for her but he knew he couldn't. Her eyes had broken from his when the tears began and then suddenly they were back. The tears stopped as she searched for something in his face. Wonder spread across her features and a sad smile tugged at her mouth.

"I love you Mary," her father said but still came no closer. "I risked capture to come and see you."

"You came to say goodbye," Mary said, reaching a hand up to cup Marshall's cheek. "You come again and I will report it."

As she knew he would, James Shannon hastily left the room. Neither partner said anything as they listened to the door open and close and the rapid footsteps fade down the hallway. Marshall went to say something and Mary shook her head. "Lay with me Marshall. We'll sort it out in the morning."

"Mary, I…" he began.

"Get in bed numbnuts," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Otherwise, you'll fall asleep in the middle of some tangent on the nature of goodbye."

Marshall chuckled and eased his tired body down next to her, hiding his surprise when she reached for his hand and held it. He fell asleep as their fingers linked together, promising her in his mind 'I will not leave'.


	7. Chapter 7 Zoos and Open Skies

**Sorry it's been awhile - the holidays were a little on the crazy side. I hope you enjoy it.**

Marshall woke up feeling refreshed, if a little stiff, for the first time in weeks. Marveling over the feeling it took him a minute to register exactly why he was feeling refreshed. Blinking open his eyes, he looked over at Mary's sleeping form next to him and smiled. Sometime during the night, she'd turned slightly on her side and spooned back into him.. Pressing a kiss against her shoulder, he let the love he felt for this woman wash through him. Setting his head back down, he closed his eyes, deciding that he would hold her for a few more minutes before getting up to face the world.

Mary was becoming very adept at feigning sleep and had been awake for a few minutes before she felt Marshall stir briefly and carefully kept her eyes loosely closed and her breathing even. She was not ready to face him yet. Last night had been too much for her and she wasn't ready to rehash it yet. With Marshall as close as he was, it was impossible to distance herself and hide as she wanted to. It would take a couple of Sherman tank to remove her from where she was snuggled against him though.

She had feigned sleep the entire time her father had been there, not feeling strong enough to face him alone. When had she become this weepy woman dependent upon Marshall to have a simple conversation? Except it wasn't a simple conversation. It was a confrontation with the man who had abandoned her a lifetime ago. And it had happened with the man who promised to never leave her. The man she had once adored beyond anything and the man she loved more than everything..

Would she have been able to say any of the things Marshall had or would she have dissolved into emotion? Would she have forgiven her father if he'd told her he loved her without Marshall there? She was afraid that she would have. She would have caved to the overwhelming emotions inside her and given James Shannon exactly what he was after: absolution. And she was not ready to extend that to him. She didn't know if she ever would be.

Part of her was screaming that she should HATE that Marshall was able to say those things. A very small part that she recognized as pride. Most of her was grateful, stunned, overwhelmed and humbled not only by how well he knew her but also by how much he loved her. To hear him admit that he loved her.

The kiss on her shoulder almost made her tense. She kept wondering why the caged feeling that always tainted this type of experience was missing. Marshall muttered something sleepily and shifted slightly closer, his hand coming to rest lightly on her hip. And simple understanding slipped into Mary's mind. He wasn't trying to pull her to him, to anchor her into his side. His touch, almost a caress, was a simple movement of affection. Marshall never tried to bind her, he always encouraged her to be free.

Remembering his exotic animal bullshit from when he'd been shot, she let her mind tumble with images. Engagement to Raph had felt like she was trapped in a cage. Partnership with Marshall was the most liberating relationship of her existence. Smiling slightly as she let her mind wander along Marshall's analogy she pictured herself standing between them. Behind Raph was a cage, small and barren. Behind Marshall was nothing but open sky. Settling into the daydream, she walked towards Marshall in her mind's eye and Raph faded away. Yawning slightly, she reached down and took Marshall's hand, lacing their fingers together. She pulled their hands up to rest over her heart before succumbing to sleep once more.

Marshall, having woken the instant her hand touched his, waited to see what else would happen. Her even breathing hadn't changed, so he doubted she knew what she had done. As much as he treasured this unguarded, albeit unconscious, intimacy, he knew it wouldn't last once she was awake. But for these brief moments, he let himself find peace alongside her.

**Please let me know what you think. I may bring Mary's family back next chapter... or Bobby D. Maybe even Eleanor.**

**~K  
**


	8. Chapter 8 Enter Eleanor

_I know its been a long time since I posted on this story but I've been missing Eleanor. I also refuse to believe that Brandi, Jinx or Chico were able to come up with the renovations seen in Mary's house. _

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The next time Mary woke it was to the smell of coffee. Sweet, sweet coffee. Opening her eyes she noticed a takeout cup sitting at her bedside table. Pushing the button that let her sit up she expected to see Marshall. Instead there was Eleanor. With some weird looking notebooks next to her.

"It's decaf," Eleanor warned as Mary reached for the cup.

"Right now, I don't care," Mary grumbled as she brought the wonderful nectar to her lips. "What brings you here?"

"It seems that you being shot in the line inspired the FBI to continue their renovations of your house," was the explanation she was offered. "And between the budget blue stripes they chose, the frightening florals your mother chose or the garish green your sister suggested, I thought it would be safer if I came and got your opinion directly."

"If you're not careful I might think you like me," Mary said with a chuckle, mentally thanking Stan for bringing Eleanor into their lives. "I'm surprised you didn't let them all choose a room and have at it."

Eleanor knew that Mary was resorting to what was safe and familiar - their antagonistic relationship. She didn't hold it against Mary. She was actually relieved that Mary was acting normally again. She admired Mary's ability to keep her emotions hidden behind her vitriolic façade and she had hated people seeing Mary at her weakest. Mary was a warrior who should never be seen helpless by a crowd. It did her a disservice not matter how much comfort it gave those who didn't recognize it.

"I was tempted," she responded. "But I realized Marshall would be visiting often during the remainder of your convalescence and would probably bankrupt himself fixing it for you."

"So you're here to be nice to Marshall?" Mary asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.

"That's what I'd testify to," Eleanor shot back with a grin. "That and we have a limited time frame before the FBI begins to feel stingy again."

"How generous are we talking here?" Mary asked with a hint of avarice. She could picture pristine walls and new carpeting.

"With this budget and years of living with a compulsive remodeling fanatic," Eleanor sighed. "I think we could completely overhaul your kitchen and bathroom, bringing them out of the 70's, fix the walls, lay new carpet and repaint the house. Inside and out."

Mary couldn't help but stare at Eleanor blankly. She'd expected the basics. She was getting so much more. Francesca must be really high on someone's radar to be worth this kind of treatment. Then it struck her. She wasn't just picking a new paint color and carpets that didn't clash terribly. Eleanor was talking about multiple rooms. Multiple decisions. Things she didn't know anything a

bout.

Eleanor watched Mary's face with interest, noting how awe turned into annoyance which then turned into overwhelmed panic. Not quite what she was expecting. She had anticipated Mary's next question though, "Do you know where Marshall is?"

"Witness transfer," she returned calmly. "I hope you don't mind but I made some preliminary decisions on things like appliances. Mainly, we're down to color choices and I don't know what colors you like. I can tell you that your best bet is to go with colors that make you feel comfortable."

Made her feel comfortable? Mary wondered what kind of psycho-babble bullshit Eleanor was trying to feed her. She didn't associate color and comfort, unless you counted blue. Deep blue like Marshall's eyes when he was studying something. Or how they lightened up with hints of green when he was happy and playful. Or when they were so dark they were almost black with his deeper emotions. Okay - so blue apparently was the color they would be working with. Not that she'd ever tell Eleanor the reason.

She was about to voice the opinion when a memory struck her. She and Marshall had been drinking too much one night and he'd blathered about colors. _'Did you know that if you blend blue and green - our eyes for instance - you would get a teal color. A balance of the two. Granted, technically its more of a two-to-one ratio of blue and yellow but the theory applies..'_

'_Teal? Are you sure you're not gay Doofus?' she'd teased him._

'_Nope," he said with a sigh, laying back on the hood of her Probe. 'All the best things are blended together Mary. Mixing them up and making them new while retaining some of their inherent properties. It can make them stronger, more secure.'_

'_Doofus,' she'd chuckled._

"Teal" she stated firmly, praying that she didn't have to explain it. She knew Marshall would understand when he saw it.

"Teal?" Eleanor questioned, surprised at the choice. She was expecting white or beige or green. Teal was kind of specific but definitely workable. "Sure. Any other preferences?"

"Do you think they can open it up the kitchen a little? It's kind of an enclosed box right now."

"That goes without saying. I'm sure we can say that some of the walls are no longer structurally sound enough to remain standing."

"Good," Mary returned feeling antsy. She needed to talk to Marshall but refused to call him. She needed to prove to herself she could get through this uncomfortably unfamiliar situation without him. At least to herself. It was her house and she should be able to make decisions about what colors she wanted there.

"I say keep the carpets beige," she added as Eleanor began to make notes. "Something neutral."

"That sounds rather bland for you."

"Yeah well I learned a long time ago that everything goes with beige and it hides dirt," Mary snapped.

"Tan would work a little better."

"Fine," Mary huffed, even though she knew Eleanor may be right.

Eleanor almost chuckled but managed to restrain herself. She knew Mary was reaching the edge of her tolerance. This couldn't be easier for her. Everything was out of her control, even what was happening to her house. As blasé and irreverent as she came across, control was critical to Mary.

So, Eleanor decided to put aside their standard antagonism and lay it straight. "Mary, do you trust me enough to handle this all the way for you?"

Mary wanted to snap at her, wanted to tell her no out of spite. But she couldn't bring herself to insult Eleanor for trying to help. Not when she knew the other woman would do an amazing job and take the responsibility off Mary's shoulders. Voluntarily. Only Marshall, and on occasion Stan, had ever done anything like that for her. Tears pricked her eyes and she once again cursed her pain meds.

"Go to town," she declared gruffly. "Redo the Taj Mahal while you're at it."

"Somehow I don't think you'd want to live in a tomb," Marshall said from the doorway with a chuckle. He'd been silently observing the two women from his position, not wanting to interrupt. He knew that, even despite their differences, Eleanor had come to care deeply for Mary. And, if anyone could get Mary to admit it, Mary actually respected the woman and not just for her ability to stand up to her.

He'd also observed Mary's reaction to Eleanor's sincerity. Positive female role models were lacking in Mary's life and she never knew how to deal with them. Knowing that if she actually broke down and cried in front of Eleanor it would only make their working relationship more awkward, he decided to step in.

"You got me there Doofus," Mary said and he saw her regaining her equilibrium with him in the room. "Actually Eleanor, you can field any questions through the walking encyclopedia there. He knows more random crap than should be legal."

"He has final say?" Eleanor asked, realizing there had definitely been a shift in the partner's dynamics. Maybe she could get the specifics out of Marshall…

"As long as there are no flowers or pastels or fru-fru crap all over the place," Mary conceded. "I see one lace curtain and I will shoot both of you."

Eleanor chuckled wondering if she could get Marshall to explain Mary's unexpected preference for teal.

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_Hope you enjoy._

_~K_


	9. Escaping the Hospital

_Sorry for the delay!_

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"What do you mean I'm not going home?" Mary growled at Stan.

"The doctors won't release you until the renovations are done on your house. The environment is considered too high risk for someone in recovery," Stan repeated for the sixth… or was it seventh? time. He didn't even look up at her this time, just continued going through the stack of paperwork on his lap. Why the fuck was he here babysitting her? Was he afraid that she was going to murder someone in her quest to get the fuck out of this place?

"So, I'm going to be stuck in the hospital until the fucking work has been done?"

"No," was the succinct and rather unhelpful response.

"If I can't go home and I'm not staying here," Mary said, deliberately moderating her tone to something resembling what a normal, rational human being would use. "Where am I going to be staying?"

"I'm impressed," Marshall chuckled from the doorway. "You've managed to keep it from her this long. I guess this means Eleanor wins the bet."

"What bet dipshit?" Mary demanded of her partner. The IV pole was beginning to look extremely handy as a weapon about now. If Marshall would just come a little closer she could beat both men at the same time and possibly escape this unholy prison.

"We bet on how long it would take before Stan caved and gave you all the information," Marshall responded, walking towards her, his eyes flicking to the IV pole in amusement. "I didn't think Stan would make it an hour."

"Actually, I won the bet," Stan said, packing away his papers. "Eleanor said no more than three hours."

"How many of those hours was she sleeping?" Marshall demanded.

"None," Mary grumbled. "I was being poked and prodded by some dweeb doctors."

"Well, I'm still impressed with Stan's ability to hold out at any rate," Marshall smiled and started gathering the random stuff that had accumulated during Mary's stay.

Mary managed to be quiet for an entire six minutes and forty-nine seconds to Marshall's count before she demanded. "Which one of you is going to tell me what's going on here?"

"I've been appointed your caretaker," Marshall said as if that explained anything.

"And that's different than normal because?"

"Because this time its an official order and not just a partner thing. Until the renovations are done, you're staying at my place," Marshall explained, a self-satisfied smirk breaking out on his face.

"But there are more rules there than there are here!" she complained.

"So, you want to stay put?" he challenged.

Mary looked around at the various machines she'd been hooked up to for the endless days of her incarcerating recuperation and felt a wave of disgust course through her. "Consider me a model house guest."

Marshall knew she'd be anything but and yet he welcomed the opportunity to pamper her, take care of her. Much as Jinx and Brandy wanted to be there for her, they would only add further stress to her recovering system and she'd probably end up taking care of them instead of them taking care of her.

After a couple of tedious hours of paperwork and exit exams Mary was discharged into Marshall's care and they headed back to his apartment. He had her favorite snacks loaded in his cabinets and fridge and her favorite movies waiting by the TV. She was tired enough, or angry enough, that she immediately went into the guest room and shut the door. That was a little unexpected, but he tried to take it in stride. He was in the middle of making dinner when he heard her cry out and dropped everything.

Bursting into the room he found her caught in the grips of a nightmare, her face beaded with sweat as she thrashed against some enemy only she could see. Without warning, she shot up and screamed his name.

Without even realizing it, he'd crossed the room and had her in his arms. "It's alright Mare, I'm here," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't leave me Marshall," he heard her plea and held her tighter. "Don't let me go."

"Never Mary, I'll never let you go."

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_Hope you enjoye_d it!

~K


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